and then I’ll come get you and we can go together.”
“I need to go now.”
“What? Are you telling me you
have an errand that won’t wait an hour?”
“Are you telling me that your church is only going to last one hour?”
“Okay 90 minutes. Shirley you
can wait an hour and a half right?”
“Wrong. Just give me your
truck and I’ll be back after lunch.”
“What if I need it?”
“You have how many brothers
here and you can’t bum a ride? Or ride your motorcycle? You’re a biker no? Ride
your damn bike already.” I demand.
“Why do you need to go on this errand so bad?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do, but I’m also
the President of the Death Crusaders. I don’t ask I tell. No one tells me what
to do and no old lady argues with me; especially not mine.”
“Oh enough already.” I snap.
“Is your ego that fragile that you can’t allow me to win one argument and get
my way?”
That shuts him up. If he
argues with that he can’t win and he knows it so he tosses me his keys. I smile
impishly and walk off swinging my hips seductively.
“Hey, you can’t walk like
that and just leave me here like this.”
“You got a right hand don’t
you?” I challenge.
He gives me the finger
playfully and storms off to church. I continue my prancing across the gravel
driveway much to the delight of the half dozen bikers who are arriving for the
meeting. Blade drives a 2006 Ford Explorer. I like it. It’s big, red and
badass. I type in 4555 Lone Pine Road on his GPS and take off. I get about ten
miles down the road when I realize I have no game plan. I guess I’m just going
to show up and wing it. According to his Garmin it will take me exactly 87
minutes to get there. It also occurs to me that I should be taking Piper but I
don’t think he’s even out of the hospital yet. As I wind my way into danger my
mind wanders back to Officer Regan. I have to believe they were going to kill
her anyway and her death is not on my hands. I also don’t believe that. At
least not yet I don’t. When I’m about ten miles out I really begin to get
stressed. What happens in a few minutes is going to determine whether or not I
find the only witness to Alex’s murder. I have to find this girl!
Before long my being stressed
turns into my being frantic. This was a stupid thing to do. It’s also my only
play so I better just do it. I stop a quarter mile from the Detective’s house
and take out Piper’s gun. I think it holds something like fifteen rounds, maybe
more and I only used one so I should have at least fourteen. I stuff it in the
back of my pants and immediately regret it. How do they do this on TV all the time?
It’s freaking uncomfortable. I take it back out and stick it in my purse.
Fortunately his house seems to be nestled in a grove of trees so it makes my
approach pretty easy. As I get nearer I begin to ask myself some important
questions like how many people live here. What if he’s got a wife and kids
here? What if his cop buddies are all hanging out here? No, probably not at
this time of morning. It’s nine thirty. He’s spent twenty-seven years working
nights. Chances are he’s kept to that routine and is fast asleep. I understand
he retired this year so it’s doubtful he’s changed his sleeping patterns yet.
Using the cover of the trees I’m able to get within about thirty feet of his
backdoor. He’s got a doggie door. It looks like an old one. I might even be
able to reach my arm in and unlock his door. Wouldn’t that be nice? What if
he’s got a pit bull in there? Man. I really should have planned this out. I get
about ten more steps when I get a really bad feeling. I start to turn around
but it’s too late.
“Stop right there Ms.
Clarkson.” Says a man’s voice. “Put your hands up.”
My blood freezes and I
wonder, is there any way out of this? Is there any excuse that’s going to
explain me sneaking around his property with a gun in my purse?
“How’d you know
“I need to go now.”
“What? Are you telling me you
have an errand that won’t wait an hour?”
“Are you telling me that your church is only going to last one hour?”
“Okay 90 minutes. Shirley you
can wait an hour and a half right?”
“Wrong. Just give me your
truck and I’ll be back after lunch.”
“What if I need it?”
“You have how many brothers
here and you can’t bum a ride? Or ride your motorcycle? You’re a biker no? Ride
your damn bike already.” I demand.
“Why do you need to go on this errand so bad?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do, but I’m also
the President of the Death Crusaders. I don’t ask I tell. No one tells me what
to do and no old lady argues with me; especially not mine.”
“Oh enough already.” I snap.
“Is your ego that fragile that you can’t allow me to win one argument and get
my way?”
That shuts him up. If he
argues with that he can’t win and he knows it so he tosses me his keys. I smile
impishly and walk off swinging my hips seductively.
“Hey, you can’t walk like
that and just leave me here like this.”
“You got a right hand don’t
you?” I challenge.
He gives me the finger
playfully and storms off to church. I continue my prancing across the gravel
driveway much to the delight of the half dozen bikers who are arriving for the
meeting. Blade drives a 2006 Ford Explorer. I like it. It’s big, red and
badass. I type in 4555 Lone Pine Road on his GPS and take off. I get about ten
miles down the road when I realize I have no game plan. I guess I’m just going
to show up and wing it. According to his Garmin it will take me exactly 87
minutes to get there. It also occurs to me that I should be taking Piper but I
don’t think he’s even out of the hospital yet. As I wind my way into danger my
mind wanders back to Officer Regan. I have to believe they were going to kill
her anyway and her death is not on my hands. I also don’t believe that. At
least not yet I don’t. When I’m about ten miles out I really begin to get
stressed. What happens in a few minutes is going to determine whether or not I
find the only witness to Alex’s murder. I have to find this girl!
Before long my being stressed
turns into my being frantic. This was a stupid thing to do. It’s also my only
play so I better just do it. I stop a quarter mile from the Detective’s house
and take out Piper’s gun. I think it holds something like fifteen rounds, maybe
more and I only used one so I should have at least fourteen. I stuff it in the
back of my pants and immediately regret it. How do they do this on TV all the time?
It’s freaking uncomfortable. I take it back out and stick it in my purse.
Fortunately his house seems to be nestled in a grove of trees so it makes my
approach pretty easy. As I get nearer I begin to ask myself some important
questions like how many people live here. What if he’s got a wife and kids
here? What if his cop buddies are all hanging out here? No, probably not at
this time of morning. It’s nine thirty. He’s spent twenty-seven years working
nights. Chances are he’s kept to that routine and is fast asleep. I understand
he retired this year so it’s doubtful he’s changed his sleeping patterns yet.
Using the cover of the trees I’m able to get within about thirty feet of his
backdoor. He’s got a doggie door. It looks like an old one. I might even be
able to reach my arm in and unlock his door. Wouldn’t that be nice? What if
he’s got a pit bull in there? Man. I really should have planned this out. I get
about ten more steps when I get a really bad feeling. I start to turn around
but it’s too late.
“Stop right there Ms.
Clarkson.” Says a man’s voice. “Put your hands up.”
My blood freezes and I
wonder, is there any way out of this? Is there any excuse that’s going to
explain me sneaking around his property with a gun in my purse?
“How’d you know
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